


Love Will Remember

by icandrawamoth



Series: February Ficlet Challenge 2018 [11]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Amnesia, Boyfriends, Crash Landing, Established Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Happy Ending, Hospitals, I'm Bad At Titles, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Star Wars: A New Hope, Temporary Amnesia, Waiting Rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 12:43:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13659228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: Before Wedge can ask, the medtech says, “Lieutenant Klivian is stable. Most of his injuries are minor. However, there was a degree of head trauma. We believe he is suffering from a mild concussion, possibly resulting in some memory loss.”





	Love Will Remember

**Author's Note:**

> For February Ficlet Challenge prompt "character B has amnesia."

Wedge is, objectively, a better pilot than Hobbie. His scores at Skystrike were always just a bit higher, and whether in a TIE, an A-wing, or an X-wing, there are just maneuvers Wedge is able to do that Hobbie isn't. It's how they'd grown so close back at the Academy, Wedge worrying about his friend, offering to tutor him in their free time. Even now he can remember that first tentative kiss inside a darkened simulator, neither of them sure who'd initiated it.

Hobbie had gotten better after that, but still not as good as Wedge. It wasn't a matter of bragging or hurt feelings, just a fact. Usually it's not a problem. Hobbie manages; he's still around after all that time with the Empire and now the Rebellion. He holds his own.

Today it's a problem. Today when Phoenix Squadron is coming in to land after Hobbie's X-wing had been shot up on their mission – no landing gear, no astromech, almost no repulsors. If it were a spaceport on some civilized planet, there would be a tractor beam to help with this exact sort of emergency, but this is a newly established illicit base on the backwater moon of Yavin 4.

Wedge thinks he could probably land that ship. Maybe. And though he has faith in Hobbie's flying abilities, he's very, very worried right now. Glancing out his own canopy, he can see debris dangling below the other fighter as it limps toward the base, and it makes his stomach turn.

“You've only got one shot at this, Hobbie,” comes Hera's voice over the comm, cool and reassuring. It helps Wedge take a deep breath. “Shields full front, cut as much power as you can as soon as you're near the ground. Got it?”

“Got it, Phoenix Leader.” Hobbie's voice doesn't shake, but Wedge knows him well enough to hear the nerves in it anyway.

“You can do this,” Wedge hears himself saying.

“Thanks, Wedge.” The words are followed by a deep inhale, Hobbie gathering himself.

“Go on in ahead of us, Hobbie,” Hera instructs. “I've already informed Ground Control of the situation.”

“Acknowledged.”

Wedge holds his breath as he watches Hobbie's ship move out in front, juddering awkwardly in its damaged state, then descending toward the airfield. The X-wing loses altitude rapidly, not nearly as controlled as it should be, then slows, making a sharp arc toward the landing area, and Wedge's heart slams in his throat as Hobbie's ship hits the ground – _hard_ – skidding and cracking along the ground, one S-foil sheared and dragging behind, throwing up sparks.

Wedge hears himself cry out, echoed by the other members of the squadron, punching the comm and hearing no response from Hobbie before Hera quiets them. “Get to your landing areas,” she says, and her voice is as calm as always, but Wedge can hear a note of grimness in it that matches the fear snaking through his own veins. “We can't do anything for him up here.”

 

Wedge doesn't remember anything about the next few minutes except pounding anxiety, and then he's standing on the ground beside Hobbie's wrecked fighter, the rest of the squadron coming up behind him, watching an emergency team swarm over the ship, prying the damaged canopy open – and pulling Hobbie's limp body out.

Wedge catches a glimpse of red amongst orange and blond and demands shakily, “Is he-?”

“Breathing,” one of the crew says as the med team rushes Hobbie off. “All we can say for now.”

Wedge's hands clench into fists at his sides. He can't remember ever feeling so helpless. He should have been keeping a better eye on Hobbie out there. This never should have happened.

“Wedge.” A hand lands on his shoulder, and he looks up to see Hera. She doesn't say anything else for a long moment, just squeezes in silent comfort and reassurance. “Go,” she adds finally, kindly. “We'll debrief later.”

Wedge barely has time for a grateful look before he's racing toward the medbay, hearing the boots of his squadronmates pounding behind him.

 

It seems like forever that they wait without word. Needing to do _something_ , Wedge takes to pacing the corridor outside the medbay. Six steps across. Six back. Over and over.

“You're not doing any good trying to wear a hole in the floor,” Mart chides him after awhile and is quickly silenced by Gooti.

Wedge doesn't respond. He barely hears. He's too busy imagining what might be going on inside the room right now. He's sure Hobbie is alive. He'd been breathing when they pulled him from the X-wing, and somehow Wedge can't help thinking if it were otherwise...he would know. But how badly is he hurt? There'd been blood, but maybe it was just a head wound. Those bleed a lot. And yet-

The door opens suddenly, and he nearly walks right into the medtech that steps out. Wedge manages to jerk to a halt in front of the man, wide-eyed and mouth half open. But before he can ask, the medtech says, “Lieutenant Klivian is stable. Most of his injuries are minor. However, there was a degree of head trauma. We believe he is suffering from a mild concussion, possibly resulting in some memory loss.”

“Amnesia?” Mart pipes up as all words die in Wedge's throat. “How bad is it?”

“The damage appears to be mild,” the medtech explains, looking from Mart to Wedge. “Any memory loss is likely temporary. We'll need more time to determine the specifics.”

“Is he awake?” Wedge asks finally, voice thick with anxiety. “Can we see him?”

“He's conscious, but we need to keep him calm,” the man says firmly. “I'll allow one of you in, but only for a short time.”

“Go, Wedge,” Mart says without hesitation.

Wedge doesn't even think to thank him before he follows the medtech back inside.

 

It's only remembering the man's words about Hobbie's injuries being minor that manages to keep Wedge any semblance of calm when he catches sight of him. He looks so small where he's reclining in a medical bed, dwarfed by monitors and a thick bandage wrapped around his head.

The medtech moves off to attend to other duties, and Wedge steps forward alone. Hobbie's eyes are closed, but they flicker open when Wedge draws near, and Wedge doesn't think he's ever been so relieved to see those blue orbs.

“Did they shave your hair under there?” Wedge asks weakly as he gestures to the bandages, trying to force his own worry away with a joke.

“About my luck, right?” Hobbie answers, and Wedge could cry from relief. He sounds so normal.

Wedge finds a chair and pulls it up next to the bed, reaches for Hobbie's hand where it lays atop the white blanket, twines their fingers together as he draws it up for a kiss, silently pressing all his relief into the gesture.

“Um, Wedge?”

Wedge looks up, sees the odd look Hobbie is giving him, and something in his heart twinges.

“What are you doing?”

“I was worried,” Wedge tells him earnestly. “When I saw you go down like that, I thought-”

“So worried that you...just kissed my hand?” Hobbie raises an eyebrow.

 _Amnesia._ The word slams into Wedge full-force, and he drops Hobbie's hand. “You don't remember.”

“Don't remember your tendency to kiss my hand? Can't say that I do, Wedge.” But Hobbie is smiling now. “You really must have been worried. Look at me, though, I'm okay as always.” He raises his hands to gesture at himself, then winces and drops them again.

Wedge makes himself breathe, makes himself smile. _Temporary_ , the medtech had said. He hasn't lost this forever. He hasn't.

“Do you know where we are?” he asks in lieu of anything else. If he's forgotten what they have, how much else has he forgotten? How much that's objectively important?

“A medbay, obviously,” Hobbie says, and it's more flippant than he'd like. “Don't recognize it. Doesn't look like the one in Skystrike I've visited before.”

Wedge's mouth drops open. “Skystrike?”

“You know, the Academy we go to?” Hobbie gives him a look. “Wedge, how hard did you hit _your_ head?”

“I didn't,” Wedge mutters, running a hand over his face. “Force, Hobbie. We left Skystrike ages ago. You really don't remember?”

Hobbie blinks at him, starting to look worried now, and that's not what Wedge wants. “The medic said I may have forgotten some things...”

“Yeah.” Wedge takes his hand again, but all he does is hold it this time. He can feel it starting to tremble. “It's okay. You're okay.”

“I don't like this, Wedge.”

“Me either.”

“Tell me what's going on. Where are we?”

“The Rebel base on Yavin 4. Try to remember. We got out of Skystrike and joined the Rebellion. We've been flying with Phoenix Squadron. Your ship got pretty messed up during our last mission, and you crash-landed. That's how you got hurt.”

“Okay...” Hobbie is staring at their joined hands, then his gaze flicks back to Wedge's face. “And...are we...?”

“Yeah.” Wedge squeezes his hand. He can't help it.

“Oh. I don't remember any of that.”

“It's okay,” Wedge reassures him. “It'll come back. The medtech said it was temporary.”

“I really hope so.” Hobbie is giving him a puzzled look, and Wedge has to look away. He wants nothing more than to hug and kiss his boyfriend, luxuriate in the fact that he's physically okay, but he can't do that now, and he hates it.

They're both saved by the medtech returning to shoo Wedge off in order for Hobbie to get some rest. After they step away, the medtech asks Wedge a few questions about what they'd talked about, then nods when his suspicions are confirmed before sending Wedge away.

Wedge finds his feet taking him to the hanger; it always seems to be what happens when he's nervous. His ship is a familiar landing place; it never changes, and if it's damaged, he can help fix it.

Luckily, his wasn't too banged up during this mission, but there are always tune-ups and calibrations to be run. He busies himself, falling into the familiar work, glad these are simple things he can do himself without the assistance of any techs; no need to try and make conversation.

He doesn't know how much time as passed before the relative peace is shattered. He's perched atop the X-wing's fuselage testing one of the the S-foil servo actuators when he hears footsteps and peers over the edge to see Sabine approaching. “You wanna come down here for a sec?” she asks as she looks up at him.

It's the work of only a moment to swing himself down. “What's up?”

Sabine plants her hands on her hips as she looks him over. “I heard about Hobbie. You doing okay?”

Wedge shrugs. “I'm not the one who got hurt.”

Sabine gives him a look. “Come on, Wedge, I know how you think by now. You're blaming yourself that your boyfriend got hurt and you didn't stop it. And then there's the fact that he doesn't even remember that you're together. That would mess anyone up.”

Wedge grinds his teeth for a moment. “Even if he doesn't remember me, at least he's alive. That's what matters.”

“Selfless to a fault,” Sabine sighs. She gives him a smile as she throws an arm around his shoulders and leads him over to sit down on a supply crate next to her. “Listen. Hobbie's a tough cookie. You have to be to last at an Imperial Academy even as long as you two did. He'll shake this off, and when he does you'll be there by his side.”

Wedge stares at his hands. “But what if he doesn't?” he asks quietly.

Sabine's hand covers his. “You'll remind him. The defection stuff is simple. You're already here; if he needs to reacclimate, so be it. You told me you'd been planning forever on getting out of Skystrike; he hasn't forgotten that. As for the two of you...” She smiles at him. “I've seen you guys. If you don't think that's coming back, you're kidding yourself.”

Wedge shakes his head. “You didn't see him, Sabine. When I went in there, I took his hand, and he- He had no idea what was going on.”

“Was he nervous, back when you first got together?”

“Yes? But what does that have to do-”

“If he's lost his memory of you actually having a relationship,” Sabine says, “he may still remember just prior to that. What I mean is, he's still interested in you. Maybe he just doesn't quite know how to deal with that. This has all got to be hard for him. What I'm saying is, you can start over if you have to. I'm sure you want that.”

“I want him back, however I can have him,” Wedge admits. “I – I love him.”

Sabine's smile goes soft and fond. “I know.”

“Wedge!”

“Hobbie?” Wedge is on his feet looking toward the familiar voice almost before he can fully process its presence, and then he sees him. Running across the hanger, medbay gown fluttering, the tail of a blanket wrapping around him trailing in his wake.

“Wedge!” he says again when he comes closer, and he throws himself into Wedge's arms.

Wedge can only blink, instinctively wrapping his arms around him. “Hey...what're you-?”

“I remembered,” Hobbie mutters from where his got his face pressed into Wedge's neck. “Force, Wedge, I remembered. How could I have forgotten?”

Wedge closes his eyes as relief floods through him, barely noticing as Sabine slips away to give them some privacy. “You were hurt,” he murmurs as one hand comes up to cradle the back of Hobbie's head so gently. “It wasn't your fault.”

“I love you,” Hobbie whispers fiercely, his lips moving against Wedge's neck. “I'm never going to forget that again as long as I live. I-”

At that moment, the medtech from earlier comes skidding around the corner of the ship and locks eyes on the two of them. He stops, amusement and frustration playing across his face in equal measures. His voice, when it comes, is mild. “Lieutenant Klivian, you haven't been released from medical.”

“Save me,” Hobbie groans, clinging tighter to Wedge.

Wedge can't help but smile against him. “You really should rest. If your memory came back this fast, the rest of you shouldn't take long.” He takes his hand. “I'll come with you.”

Overhearing, the medtech rolls his eyes, but good-naturedly. “It seems like I can't really say no to that. Come on, Lieutenant, and bring your boyfriend with you.”


End file.
